Choosing Day
by so-amazing-here
Summary: Peeta Mellark's family has been torn apart by years of abuse, and as his Choosing Day approaches, he feels he has no choice but to leave his birth faction. He knows that once he completes initiation into his new faction - whatever that may be - he'll have a new home and a new family. And most importantly, a new start. (AU Fusion: THG characters, Divergent world; Everlark)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Thank you for reading my new story! I've been interested for some time in bringing the Divergent and Hunger Games worlds together, and I hope you like what I have planned. This story uses the Divergent world with Hunger Games characters. I apologize in advance, but no Divergent characters will appear in this. I don't feel well enough acquainted with them to do them justice. **

**This story came about because I was intrigued by the factions in Divergent, and particularly the concept of "faction before blood." It's like having the opportunity to choose your own family. Given that Peeta and Katniss both come from less-than-ideal family situations in The Hunger Games, I thought it would be interesting to explore how they navigate choosing their factions. So that's where this story begins.**

**I had help from three wonderful ladies in writing this: imloveleee, sohypothetically, and sunfishdunes. Thanks to all three of you for everything!**

**Finally, feel free to come follow me on tumblr if you'd like to chat about this story or anything else. You can find me as soamazinghere. **

* * *

Looks like I managed to set her off again. Apparently I have a talent for doing that. Even with her back turned, I can see how angry Mom is just by the way she's breathing and tensing her shoulders. My brothers and I put up with this for years; _of course_ I can read her body language like a book. When I was a kid, seeing her like this would've sent me running out to hide in the orchard. Now, I don't bother.

Dad knows that she's about to blow up, too. I can see him inching nervously across the large kitchen, pretending to check on the bread dough that he just set aside to rise ten minutes ago. He shouldn't worry though - Mom won't do anything because there are others here in the kitchen with us, helping make tonight's dinner. And she knows that she's not above being sent to the Conflict Room to "discuss her problems" if she fights with me openly.

And what was my crime today? Oh, right. I spilled a pot of water onto the floor. The water was cold - the potatoes hadn't even been added to it yet, much less started to cook - but some of it splashed onto my pants. And more importantly, Mom's shoes. Of course, it wouldn't matter if the water hadn't touched either of us. Mom just gets inexplicably angry when anything goes wrong in the kitchen. Or anywhere, really. It never takes much with her.

Carefully placing the now-empty pot on the counter, I quickly walk over to one of the large closets in the rear of the kitchen and retrieve a mop. The room is eerily quiet. After the excess water has been cleaned up, I put away the mop, wash my hands, and re-fill the pot with water. Staring at Mom's back and internally shouting at her, "_See? It was no big deal!_", I wordlessly carry the pot to the stove and add the potatoes.

I know that as soon as the others leave the room, she'll turn on me just as she always does. But until then, I'm going to ignore her. I don't really care what she's going to say; in fact, I stopped caring a long time ago. I put up with her just to keep the peace. A short, bitter laugh erupts from me - I really _am_ Amity through and through. I've spent much of my life working to avoid conflict with her, although by now I'm pretty sure that's an impossible task.

Some small part of me has always wondered how my mom ended up in Amity out of all the possibilities. Every year on Choosing Day we hear the same words recited, talking about how our faction was formed because we believe that aggression is responsible for the world's problems. But if there's one word I can think of to describe my mom, it would be "aggressive."

I'm broken out of my thoughts when I hear the door to the dining hall swing open, and as I look up, I realize that Mom, Dad, and I are the only ones left in the kitchen. My mom watches the others leave out of the corner of her eye, her lips pressed together tersely. She takes a deep breath in through her nose. I shake my head and sigh - I know what's about to come.

As soon as she's sure we're alone, she predictably turns to me and hisses, "_What_ do you think you're doing, Peeta?" I can tell she wants to raise her voice, but she can't because everyone's just on the other side of the kitchen door, gathering for dinner. "You've got to be more careful. We can't waste food!"

"It wasn't food, Mom, it was just some spilled water," I tell her flatly.

"Catherine, please," my dad says nervously, tentatively laying a hand on her arm.

She shakes it off angrily and points a finger at him. "Don't," she snaps. "We have a responsibility to everyone in Amity to take care of the food we have. We can't be seen as careless!"

"Mom, nothing happened," I say as evenly as I can. "Some water got on the floor and I cleaned it up. That's it."

"But there _could've_ been food in there," she protests. "It could've been completely ruined. It could've - " Mom cuts herself off here and turns away from me, clenching her fists and breathing deeply. It's taking everything she has to rein herself in right now.

I see my dad slink off to the other side of the kitchen. It's typical of him; he doesn't know how to deal with Mom when she's in a mood like this. He stopped trying years ago to keep the peace between his sons and our mother. But without his support, I get frustrated. I _know_ how wrong it is, but I find myself wanting to fight back.

"But it _wasn't_, Mom. Can we just forget about it?" I turn back to the stove in an attempt to ignore her and calm myself. The potatoes have finished cooking; I carry the heavy pot to the other side of the room and dump them into a mixing bowl.

Mom isn't ready to give in, though. She stalks over to me and jerks my arm to the side, forcing me to face her as she stands just inches away. "Peeta, don't _ever_ speak to me like that," she warns in a low voice. "Your brothers knew better than to do that."

A cynical laugh escapes me before I have a chance to stifle it. "Are you seriously bringing up my brothers? They left, Mom. Because of _you_," I remind her.

She's actually shaking, now; that's how enraged she is. I'm surprised she even mentioned my brothers, honestly. She's hardly ever spoken their names since they left Amity. It's almost as if they never existed. I can see from the twitching in her arms how badly she wishes she could hit me. I'm not afraid; I know she won't.

Finally, Dad intervenes. He gently pulls me away from Mom and toward the dining hall door. "Why don't you go out and find your friends for dinner?" he suggests quietly. "I think I saw Delly and Thom out there a few minutes ago."

Mom and I keep staring at each other, but I break out of the spell first and nod my head in response to my dad's words. It's best that I go; when Mom gets like this, she can't (or won't) calm down as long as I'm here.

I wonder if she'd be happy if she knew I was planning to leave, just like my brothers.

* * *

Some things haven't changed much since I was a kid, I guess. I still come here, to the apple orchard, when I don't want to go home and face my mom.

At this point, I'm actually counting the days until I leave and I don't have to worry about that anymore. Twelve days. Choosing Day is just _twelve days_ from today.

I walk through the wide center aisle of the orchard and away from the compound, feeling the soft, slightly damp ground give way beneath my feet. When I used to come here to get away from Mom, I wouldn't spend much time out in the open like this - I'd quickly run onto the smaller paths that wind through the rows of trees, trying to put as much distance between myself and the compound as possible. Trying to find a place to hide.

The orchard, more than anywhere else I've ever been, feels _safe_ to me. The branches and leaves above my head have always provided shelter and given me a place to escape from everything else. Even when I come here to help with the harvest, I appreciate the exertion of the physical labor; it helps to distract me. As I've grown older, I haven't needed to hide here like I used to, but I still come often. To think. To clear my head. Wherever I end up in a few weeks, I know I'll always miss this.

And of course there are people here that I'll miss as well. My friends..._my dad_...but the truth is, there's nothing in Amity that I absolutely can't bring myself to leave behind. Maybe that's a little bit depressing, but when the alternative means continuing to live with or near my mom for the rest of her life, I can overlook it.

My brothers and I spent most of our childhoods in fear of practically every move we made, never sure _what_ would set Mom off or _how_ we could make her happy. Dad was the parent we gravitated toward when we wanted love or affection, and he was always willing to give it - at least, when we were in public or when Mom wasn't around. And we craved the positive attention he gave us so badly that we all ignored the fact that he chose not to protect us from Mom.

It wasn't always like that, though. When Mom's tendency toward anger progressed to her actually _hitting_ us - I was about four years old, I think, when that happened - Dad used to try to intervene, shielding us from her by taking us out of our living quarters or even fighting back. But none of it, especially not fighting with Mom, came very naturally or easily to Dad. I only see this now as I look back, but I think he realized that he could restore the peace in our household more quickly by letting Mom have her way. Let her yell at us, let her hit us, and she'd be fine in a few hours. Push back against her will, and she might stay angry for a week.

As an Amity, his choice made sense to him. And as scary as this is for me to admit, it even makes sense to _me_ now. But some part of me knows that what he did wasn't right. No amount of love he gave could make up for what he _didn't_ do for all those years.

Contrary to what you might think, Mom's abuse didn't bring me and my brothers together, uniting us against a common enemy. What happened was just the opposite - we divided in order to survive. If one of us learned a way to make Mom happy, to pacify her in a tough situation, we kept it to ourselves. If one of us got punished for something another did, we never spoke up to defend the other. We operated almost like three only children. It was our own fucked-up way of surviving.

When I was young, the idea never entered my mind that things would change, or that they even _could_, until I was about 10 years old. That's the year that my oldest brother Bannock turned 16, the age where he took the aptitude test and chose whether to stay in Amity or move to a new faction. I vividly remember the shock I felt when Bannock's name was called and he chose Erudite. I'd always just assumed he'd stay in Amity. Leaving had never occurred to me before.

But as I filed out of the room where the Choosing Ceremony was held, my brother Rye and I following hesitantly after our agitated parents, I realized what Bannock's choice meant. He'd never have to face Mom again. And even though we'd never talked about it, I knew: He left because of her.

In typical fashion for my family, we never acknowledged Bannock's leaving, except to take care of the mundane details of his absence. Dad got rid of the extra bed in the room that the three of us shared; soon afterwards, most of his possessions were disposed of as well. I never knew where they went; if they followed him to Erudite or if they were simply thrown into the trash.

Mom may not have told us how she felt about Bannock's departure, but she didn't have to - it was obvious from her actions that she felt betrayed. I don't think she was actually _surprised_ - how could she be? She knew how she'd treated him over the years - but I don't think she considered it a serious possibility that one of her sons would leave.

Without Bannock there, though, the betrayal that she felt was taken out entirely on me and Rye. I can honestly say that the two years after Bannock left were the worst of my life. Mom was very careful to never let anyone see her expressing anger toward us, and she never hit us anywhere that left bruises that weren't covered by our normal clothing, but her beatings became a much more regular event than they had been previously. And as much as we tried to avoid her, as much as we tried to run away, she always found us. She stopped even caring whether or not she had a _reason_ for hitting us; it was as if Bannock's leaving was all the reason she needed.

Two years later, Rye's Choosing Day rolled around. This time, no one in the family was surprised when he held his hand, dripping with blood, over the water-filled Erudite bowl and left us.

And although I wasn't shocked at all this time around, I was scared out of my mind. There was no one else left for Mom to take her anger out on; there was only me. Since I was just 12, I had four long years to wait before my own chance to leave. I tried to prepare myself for the worst.

But oddly enough, the worst never came. After Bannock left, my parents got sympathy from the other members of Amity. Having one child leave for another faction was relatively rare, but it could happen to anyone. Having _two_ children leave? That hadn't happened in anyone's recent memory. People started to wonder if there might be a reason why the two older Mellark boys had left.

Mom didn't necessarily care about me, but she definitely cared about how she was perceived in Amity. She was paranoid that people were catching on to her, that they'd think she was the reason for her sons leaving. That they'd figure out the truth. I can only guess about her reasoning, but I think that was why she never hit me again after Rye left.

She assumed that not hitting me anymore would be the key to getting me to remain in Amity. Funny thing is, it never occurred to her that I might not enjoy her yelling and her insults, either. Because while the hitting ended, the verbal onslaught continued. I guess with a temper as violent as hers, she had to have some kind of outlet. She couldn't just, you know, start being _nice_ to me.

But she was trying as hard as she could (_which really wasn't very hard_) to get me to stay. Not because she loved me or cared about me in any way, but just because she didn't want to find out how people would treat her if all three of her sons left Amity.

I guess she'll find out soon enough.

I've already made up my mind that I'm going to go wherever the aptitude test tells me...unless, of course, the result is Amity. That's the only faction that's completely off the table. And it'd be nice if the aptitude test would just decide my fate for me, so that I didn't have to make the difficult choice between the other four factions.

The problem is, I'm not sure how well I'd fit in any of the other factions. Maybe it's just my own lack of imagination, but I can't really see myself living in any of them. I just can't imagine myself as a member of any other faction. Truthfully, Amity isn't just where I was born and raised, it's really defined my personality and made me the person I am now. Can I really change who I am, or at least, change myself _enough_ that I'd fit into another faction?

I'd really like it if the choice could be taken out of my hands so I didn't even have to grapple with these issues. If I get Amity, I have no idea what the hell I'm going to do.

* * *

It amazes me how calm my friends can be, even as we wait here for our names to be called to take the aptitude test. I look around at the other groups sitting in the cafeteria. Am I the only one here who's worried? The only one who isn't sure what he's going to do?

It's been hard to sleep for the past few nights, knowing this test was hanging over my head and still being unsure where I'm going to end up. There's a tiny part of me that'd like to just retreat back into Amity, even though I know exactly what that would mean. It's just hard to contemplate leaving the only home I've ever known.

I shake my head, trying to clear these thoughts from my mind. After all, I'll be taking the aptitude test in minutes, and maybe my result _won't_ be Amity. Then all this worry will have been for nothing.

Trying to distract myself, I start actually listening to the conversation my friends are having as we sit in a long line on the floor, leaning against the cold wall of the cafeteria.

"What are you guys doing tonight after the test?" I hear Delly chirp excitedly. "Thom and I were planning to celebrate!"

"Celebrate _what_?" Madge asks, picking at a thread on her red pants.

Delly looks at Madge as if the answer to her question should be obvious. "Deciding on our factions."

"Well, Del," Madge says as she settles back against the wall, "The test doesn't pick our factions. We can choose whatever we want."

Delly leans forward and looks back and forth at the five of us. "Yeah, but I'm sure we'll all pick - "

"You know we're not supposed to talk about that," I interrupt her. I'd really rather leave this topic alone for now.

"Yeah, let's wait for the Ceremony, Delly," Octavia pipes up. She leans against my shoulder and smiles up at me. I return her smile a little hesitantly.

Thankfully, just then, one of the Abnegation volunteers who are administering the tests emerges and reads a list of 10 names. Madge and Thom are both in the next group to be tested, so they stand to leave. Delly jumps to her feet as well, kissing Thom and calling out an overly-exuberant "good luck!" as he walks away.

Delly watches them leave, blowing a kiss to Thom as he rounds the corner to the testing rooms, before she sits back down with Octavia and me. "Fine, we don't have to call it a 'celebration,' but do you guys want to get together tonight anyway?" she asks. "Picnic out by the fence, maybe?"

Octavia stares up at me with a questioning look and I groan inwardly. Every time she acts like this, I want to scream and remind her that we _both agreed_ that we're just friends; we're not a couple anymore. She just keeps acting like we are...and I'm apparently too nice to stop her.

"Um, yeah, I'll be there," I shrug. "What about you, Octavia?" I'm trying to make it clear that this is an individual decision; we are _not _a package deal.

I can't tell whether she gets the message or not. She just smiles brightly and exclaims, "Of course!" as she places her hand on my thigh. I clench my jaw and fidget uncomfortably; I really want to scoot away from her, but I can't figure out any way to do that without hurting her feelings, so I stay put.

I feel like such a jerk for admitting this, but I can't help but feel a little relief that Choosing Day will help me make a clean break from this relationship once and for all. Especially since talking to her about it hasn't seemed to work.

The three of us look up as another set of 10 names is called. I try not to be too obvious, but I breathe a little sigh of relief when I hear Octavia's name just after Delly's. Octavia looks at me expectantly, though - apparently it's my job to give her a send-off - so I reach over and wrap my arms around her briefly before she leaves. "Bye," she waves as she and Delly set off for the testing rooms.

After they leave, I lean against the wall and close my eyes, breathing deeply but trying not to let anyone know how unsettled and nervous I'm feeling.

Honestly, I'm glad to be left by myself for even just a few minutes before the test. As much as I normally enjoy hanging out with my friends, it's difficult to make idle chit-chat about my evening plans when I'm feeling like my entire life is hanging in the balance.

But no more than a few minutes pass before I sense someone standing in front of me. I sigh and reluctantly open my eyes, taking in a pair of black boots and a white skirt. A smile creeps across my face as I look up; she's one of the few people I don't mind seeing right now.

"Peeta Mellark, would you like a cookie?" she asks, raising her eyebrows. "You look like you could use one."

"Hey Katniss," I greet her. "And what do you mean by that exactly?" I put my hand out and she drops a chocolate cookie into it.

"You look like..." she trails off, biting her lip.

"What?"

"Um, give me a minute," Katniss says as she sits next to me, stretching out her legs in front of her. "I'm trying to think of something diplomatic to say."

"Don't bother. I can take it."

"Hell," she responds immediately. "I was going to say you look like hell."

"Thanks," I laugh softly.

Katniss Everdeen is the only friend I have who's not from Amity. And friendships across factions are something of an oddity here. A quick glance at the few people remaining in the cafeteria easily confirms this. There's a small group of Erudite kids having an animated discussion about something in the newspaper, a few black-clad Dauntless shoving tables together to make an obstacle course, and an Abnegation group sitting in silence. Aside from the two of us, everyone else is keeping to their own factions.

"So what's wrong?" she asks me bluntly, taking a bite of her own cookie.

"It's nothing," I lie.

She immediately opens her mouth to reply, but I'm surprised to see her make a visible effort to stifle her instinct to push me for more details. I'm sure she's not used to people trying to keep secrets from her; I assume that sort of thing doesn't happen in Candor.

The hardest part of being friends with Katniss, actually, is her penchant for extreme, brutal honesty. I try to remind myself that's how she was raised, but it doesn't make it any easier to hear at times. I have no idea how the people in her faction manage to retain any shreds of self-esteem.

We sit silently for a moment before Katniss speaks again. "Looking forward to the test?" she asks me, shifting slightly so she can see my face.

I sigh. "Not really."

She peers at me thoughtfully, brow furrowed. I turn my head away from her, hating the feeling that she can tell what I'm thinking by looking at me. "You shouldn't worry," she finally pipes up, attempting her best reassuring tone. "You're the most natural Amity I've ever met."

There it is again. This assumption that everyone plans to or wants to stay in their birth factions. She has no idea. My worry is pretty much the opposite of what she's thinking. I don't _want_ to be such a natural Amity. I want a different result. I just can't tell her that.

Instead, I turn the question back to her. "What about you?"

She shrugs and adjusts the black jacket she's wearing. "I think I know where I'll end up," she responds nonchalantly.

Good for her. I wish I could say the same. Part of me wants to ask her where she thinks she's going, but that could just invite her to ask the same of me, so I stay silent. She doesn't seem to mind though. She just opens up her small bag of cookies and holds it out to me; we share the rest while we wait our turn.

"Thanks for the cookies," I tell her.

"They're weren't that great," Katniss replies, brushing crumbs off her skirt. "We're having ice cream later, but I was hungry now," she laughs. I surprise myself by laughing along with her.

Our names are called in the last group. As we stand, Katniss surprises me by squeezing my hand and leaning in close to whisper in my ear, "It'll be fine." We smile shyly at each other and I try to ignore the flutters in my stomach that only seem to bother me when she's around. We walk toward the testing rooms together, parting when she reaches her assigned room. I watch her disappear inside and then make my way to the next door, where my test awaits.

I take a deep breath and step into the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed this story! Please continue to leave me reviews so I know what you think! I really hope you enjoy where I'm taking this.**

**Huge thanks to imloveleee, sohypothetically, and sunfishdunes for reading, commenting on, and editing this chapter.**

**Come say hi to me on tumblr – I'm soamazinghere.**

**And finally, because I forgot to say this when I posted this first chapter: I don't own The Hunger Games or Divergent. I'm just taking inspiration from them.**

* * *

I'm trying to concentrate on the words the reflection leader is saying, I really am. Anything to get my mind off of the results of the aptitude test.

We stand in a circle in the greenhouse, about twenty of us altogether, hands joined and eyes closed, reciting a prayer that anyone in Amity would instantly recognize. I've said these words hundreds of times since I was a child; I know them so well that, thankfully, no one here can tell how unsettled I'm feeling right now. The words of the prayer are a wish for peace and calm and an end to conflicts in the world.

Normally, these words would provide me with comfort and solace. Today it's just the opposite, because even though I agree with them and know that they reflect the kind of world I want to live in, for the first time in my life I wish I didn't relate to them quite so well. Because then maybe I'd be better prepared to leave. To make my way out into a world where people hold different values to be important.

And maybe I wouldn't have gotten Amity as my result on the aptitude test.

I'm not surprised at my result; I guess I'm just bitter about it. Somehow it feels like the entire world is conspiring against me. I mean, I survived sixteen years with my mom, waiting for my chance to leave, and all the stupid test can tell me is that I'm supposed to stay? And not even give me the slightest hint about where _else_ I might be able to go?

Okay, now that I've taken it, I get it: the aptitude test isn't designed that way. There are no shades of grey. It's meant to tell me the _one place_ where I'd fit in best, the one place that's the most natural fit with my personality. And for me, apparently, that place is Amity.

Which is also the one place that I'm absolutely unwilling to spend the rest of my life.

When I got home after the aptitude test, once my initial anger had worn off and I'd calmed down, I ran straight out to the greenhouse that sits at the center of our compound to find a reflection service. Religion in Amity is fairly informal, at least compared to what I've learned about the other factions. Our faction itself doesn't have a leader, and neither does our religion. Faction elders usually end up leading the services, but anyone can if they want to.

The only criteria for holding a reflection service is that someone wants to hold one, and someone is willing to lead it. It's as simple as that, really. And after my disappointment with the aptitude test today, I needed something to help clear my head. I've always found our reflection services to be calming and almost meditative in the past, so I hoped that attending one would help me today. And when I got to the greenhouse, I was lucky enough to find a small group gathered underneath the large tree in the center of the building, preparing to begin.

At this point in the service, we've all taken seats on the ground, and the reflection leader has encouraged us all to close our eyes in an attempt to clear our minds of all of the restlessness of the day.

But I don't think I can possibly clear my mind - how can I, knowing that tomorrow I have to choose the faction where I'll spend the rest of my life? So instead I just review my choices in my head. And honestly, right now I'm feeling pretty pessimistic - I don't think I'd fit in anywhere.

Each faction was formed because the people in it blame a different human trait for the problems in the world. We learn about all the factions in school, and I've been to enough Choosing Ceremonies in the past to know that tomorrow I will again hear recited the words that describe the founding of each faction.

I run over those words in my mind.

"_Those who blamed ignorance became the Erudite_." Erudite, the faction where both of my brothers retreated after they left Amity. But I'm not looking for a family reunion; I'm not sure it'd be a good idea to choose to go there.

"_Those who blamed duplicity created Candor_." Katniss's faction. The faction where no one ever lies, where they'd rather tell you unflattering truths about yourself to preserve the virtue of honesty than tell a simple lie to keep the peace.

"_Those who blamed selfishness made Abnegation_." I don't know if I have it in me to be selfless enough to join the Abnegation. I've never thought of myself as a selfish person, but I just don't think I could devote the rest of my life to serving others, to always putting others' needs above my own.

"_Those who blamed cowardice were the Dauntless_." I don't even know where to begin with the Dauntless - they scare me. They don't seem to have any fear. Could I handle their life of guarding the fence, working to defend our city from whatever lies on the outside? I have no fighting skills whatsoever, and even if I did, I have no inclination to fight. With anyone.

But thinking about how I don't fit in the other factions isn't going to help me a bit. I don't _really_ hate everything about them - even if it sounds that way right now - but it's just hard for me to focus on the positive when I'm feeling so frightened.

Still, like it or not, tomorrow I _have_ to make my decision.

"Everyone please stand," the reflection leader murmurs to the group after allowing us to sit for several minutes in quiet contemplation. We all obediently rise to our feet and once again join hands in our small circle.

The reflection leader, an older woman with long white hair, looks around the circle and says, "We believe in a God who gives peace and cherishes it. So we give peace to each other, and cherish it." At these words, our circle breaks apart as we find a neighbor to grasp hands and exchange words with, wishing them peace. There are no specific words to say; we're simply expected to exchange a brief, kind message with each other. On a normal day, I'd have no problems finding the right words to say to my friends and neighbors attending service with me. But today, I have nothing. It takes everything in me to smile and nod in response to each greeting I receive.

I don't want anyone to feel that I'm neglecting them or that I don't wish to talk. But thankfully, no one seems offended by my curt, distracted greetings. Everyone knows that today was the aptitude test, so maybe they're taking pity on me. Who knows, maybe they even understand what I'm going through.

The service ends after we wish each other peace, and everyone else drifts back to their normal lives. I don't, though; this is my last day living in the Amity compound, and I want to take this last chance to appreciate everything we have here. To store up the memories for later.

As I make my way aimlessly through the greenhouse, it hits me suddenly that I may never participate in another Amity reflection service again. The realization hits hard. Switching factions is going to take everything I've ever had away from me. It's not that I didn't know that before, it's just that...now everything's really sinking in.

But I can't waste time thinking about this right now. As much as I want to, I can't spend any more time mourning what I'm leaving behind in Amity when I haven't even figured out where I'm going tomorrow.

I just hope that something happens in the next 24 hours to make my choice clear.

* * *

This was stupid, I know it was, but it's too late for me to change things now. I just got so tired of being unable to figure out which faction I'm going to choose tomorrow, that I decided to look for a distraction. Anything. _Anyone_.

And after Delly's picnic tonight, when Octavia asked me to walk her home, I found myself unable to say no...for lots of reasons. I told myself that I was just doing the right thing - after all, it's late and someone needs to make sure she gets home safely - but honestly, it was more about using her to help meforget than it was about being chivalrous.

I knew that Octavia wouldn't say no when I steered her off the main path back to the compound and led her behind the water filtration building. (_Romantic setting, I know_.) She didn't hesitate for a second when I pushed her up against the rough, wooden wall and practically assaulted her lips with my own. She thrust her hands into my hair and wasted no time returning and deepening our kiss.

I've lost track of how long we've been here, tasting each other, hands roaming and grasping desperately at the layers of clothing between us. It's only when I feel Octavia reach down to undo the top button of my pants that I realize: I can't do this.

Because the entire time I've been here with her, I've been imagining another person in her place. Wishing that I was unraveling a long brown braid instead of running my fingers through short, red hair. Slipping my hands underneath a black jacket instead of a yellow tunic.

This is wrong. I can't do this to Octavia. I can't use her as my stand-in for Katniss.

I break our kiss abruptly, panting, and Octavia looks up at me with concern. "What is it?" she asks.

I stare blankly for a moment, before blurting out the first plausible lie that pops into my head. "I'm feeling sick. It, uh...I must've eaten too much tonight," I stammer.

I feel horrible for lying, but what else am I supposed to do? The truth would hurt her too much, and she's going to end up hurting tomorrow anyway when I leave Amity. I'd rather minimize her pain for now.

"Do you need me to take you to the infirmary?" She runs her hands soothingly up and down my arms.

I shake my head. "No, I just, um, need to get back home. And lie down," I assure her. That's not too far from the truth, actually. I really could use some sleep. Maybe if I could finally get some rest, I could figure things out in the morning.

Of course, I've been telling myself that for the past week. And I'm still no closer to an answer.

Octavia looks truly concerned (_am I that good of a liar?_) as she takes my hand and leads me back to my family's living quarters. When we reach the hallway where we'll set off in our separate directions, she hesitates, then leans toward me slightly as if she wants me to give her a goodnight kiss.

But this time I can't pretend. I don't know why I care all of a sudden, why a little white lie would bother me after everything else we did tonight, but for some reason I can't bring myself to kiss her again. I take a couple of steps back; she straightens up and gives me a confused look. "Good night," I say, with one last glance at her before I turn and walk home.

"Bye, Peeta," she calls after me.

I don't look back at her as I make my way down the hall, and after a few seconds, the echoing of her shoes in the empty corridor tells me that she's heading home as well, in the opposite direction from where I'm walking. I let out a sigh of relief. Now I won't have to see her again before the ceremony tomorrow.

I feel a twinge of guilt that I feel this way about Octavia. She's a perfectly nice girl, she's pretty, she's sweet, she's considerate of everyone. But even though I've always liked her, and we've been friends practically since we were toddlers, I've never really been able to feel anything more than friendship toward her. I told myself that it's because I've always known that I was going to leave Amity and that we'd have no future. But the truth is more complicated than that.

It's got a lot to do with Katniss Everdeen.

I might as well just come right out and admit it: I've had a crush on Katniss for years, to the point where it's difficult for me to be with another girl without thoughts of her intruding. As hard as I try to stop myself, I always find myself comparing other girls to her. I've tried my best to ignore these feelings, because there was obviously no way to act on them - our cross-faction friendship is strange enough, but _no one_ dates outside their faction - but it hasn't worked. I swear, this is just another way the universe is mocking me.

Wearily, I push open the door to my family's quarters, and I'm a bit surprised to see that everyone else is asleep. I'm out later than Mom usually allows, and in the past she'd always be waiting up to berate me if I got home past my curfew. But she's been giving me a wide berth since the aptitude test earlier today - I could probably get away with just about anything right now. I think that avoiding me is her last-ditch effort to convince me to stay.

I walk into my bedroom and grab my things to go take a shower. As much as I need sleep, I'm still feeling too unsettled right now. I walk down the silent hallway to our communal bathroom, where I settle myself in an empty stall. The five minutes of cold water that Amity allows us for showering won't be relaxing, but at least it'll give me a little bit more time to think.

I'd be lying if I said that, despite my reservations about Candor, I'd never considered transferring there. But if I did, there'd be only one reason for it: Katniss. She's been my friend all these years; is it so crazy to think that we couldn't be more than friends if we had the opportunity? If we were actually able to spend time together outside of school? And at the very least, if I transferred to Candor, I'd know I'd have at least one friend there.

Removing all my clothes, I step into the shower and brace myself as I turn on the water. After a few moments of shivering as the cold jets hit my back, I slowly adjust. I exhale deeply and try to force my breathing to return to normal.

Every time I start thinking about switching to Candor, though, a million doubts enter my mind. I don't even know if Katniss gives me a second thought when we're not at school. When she's at home in Candor, is she even the same person that I see everyday? Would she still want to be friends with me if I went to her faction? Does she have a boyfriend that I don't know anything about?

I'm sure Katniss would think I was a creep if she knew I was thinking about her like this. God, I hate to even imagine what she might think if I transferred to Candor and she somehow found out that I'd done it because of her. Or if she knew exactly how long I've been noticing her.

Katniss and I have known each other, at least peripherally, for most of our lives. Children from all of the factions go to school together, and since she and I are the same age, we've always been in the same class. My crush on her started innocently enough when we were both just starting at the Lower Levels school. Our teacher asked for volunteers to sing each faction's song, and Katniss volunteered to sing Candor's. I remember liking her singing, and thinking she was pretty, but it was all innocent. I really only noticed her the way that one five-year-old notices another. And we didn't talk for years after that.

It wasn't until much later that I finally understood the effect that Katniss Everdeen had on me.

We were eleven years old, attending the Mid-Levels school, when we were partnered with each other in science class. It meant that we'd spend the entire year working together on labs and projects. The prospect made me strangely nervous and excited. I'd finally have an excuse to talk to her. I don't think I'd even admitted to myself before then that I actually _wanted_ to talk to her, but all of a sudden, it was like I couldn't wait another minute.

I shouldn't have been surprised, though, that it was Katniss who talked to me first, flopping into the desk next to me and introducing herself without a second thought. After I got over my initial shock at some of the things she said - telling me that she never liked the "ugly" red and yellow clothes that we wear in Amity, asking me difficult personal questions about my mom and dad - we became fast friends. I can't explain it to this day; something just clicked between the two of us. At the time, I chalked it up to her being from a different faction, that I liked her just because of the novelty of her acting so different from all of my Amity friends.

I didn't acknowledge the flutters I got in my stomach when she'd catch me looking at her while she was writing a lab report. Or give a second thought to the way that her knowing smile and bright, laughing eyes would make me blush. Or dwell on the insatiable urge I had to touch her braid or the skin of her cheek. I didn't know what any of it meant at the time.

It's actually amazing that our friendship survived that year, though. In late winter, there was a fire at Candor headquarters. I don't know many details about it, except for this: Katniss's father and sister were both killed. The same father and sister who Katniss had spent hours telling me stories about, the very people who made me a little jealous of her for the happy, _normal_ family that she had. Her family sounded so unlike my own.

I remember hearing about the fire before I got to school, and worrying about what might've happened to Katniss. When she wasn't in school that day, I was nearly shaking with fear as I assumed the worst. Our teacher, a young Abnegation woman, told us that morning why Katniss was missing and encouraged us to give her space and be kind to her when she returned to school. I felt relieved and sick at the same time. I think I worried that things would never be the same between Katniss and me again.

When Katniss returned to school a week later, I didn't know what to say to her. The light that had always been in her eyes before was gone. I went home that evening and decided that I would give her a gift, something that always made me feel better: our Amity bread. The bread that we share among the faction every evening at dinner always had a soothing, calming effect on me. I could only hope it would make Katniss feel the same.

Maybe I shouldn't have been surprised, but Katniss reacted to the bread with suspicion and hostility. She refused at first, and tried to give it back, telling me that she had plenty to eat and that she didn't want me feeling sorry for her. I insisted, but she countered by saying that she didn't want to owe me anything. I told her it was a gift, and you don't owe someone for giving you a gift. Eventually she relented, stuffing the bread reluctantly into her backpack. I don't know if she ever ate it, or if she gave it away, or if she got rid of it, but I remember feeling happy that she took it.

The next day, when we met in our usual spots in science class, she gave me a tiny smile and whispered "thank you." I didn't have time to reply before class started, but I remember fighting to keep a smile from breaking across my face. Maybe my gift actually meant something to her after all.

Our friendship eventually picked up where it left off, although Katniss never talked to me about what had happened. And I didn't want to pry - I didn't want to ask even the most innocuous question that could dredge up any bad memories - so we kept to other, safer topics. We didn't talk about our families. We talked about class, our friends, school...anything that seemed inoffensive.

By the end of the school year, I finally admitted to myself that I had a crush on her. Of course, by the time I really understood it, the school year was almost over. My time as Katniss's lab partner was ending. And we'd never talked in all our years of school before, so who was to say that we wouldn't go back to that after the year ended? If I hadn't been so infatuated with her, it would've been easy to just let our friendship slip away, or turn into a casual acquaintance where we did nothing more than smile and nod as we passed in the hallway.

But I couldn't let that happen. I felt compelled to remain friends with her even though I didn't know what that would get me in the end.

I fumbled my way through the next five years as best as I could, making an effort to talk to her at school, sitting next to her whenever I could in any classes that we shared, working together on class projects if the opportunity arose. To my surprise, Katniss allowed it. I think I've spent the past five years holding my breath, waiting for her to call me out on my intentions or making a comment on how strange it is for an Amity boy and a Candor girl to spend so much time together, but she never has.

The sudden shut-off of the shower jolts me out of my musing. My mind really must have been wandering - I almost never take my entire allotted five minutes in the shower. Shrugging to myself, I slip out of the stall and towel off, changing into the red pants and shirt that I wear to bed. The bathroom is still completely silent when I step out.

As I leave the bathroom and trudge slowly down the hall toward home, I remind myself why I've never told Katniss about my feelings for her. Because we're in different factions. Because I have no indication that she returns them. Because it's so unlikely we'd ever be in a position to be together anyway. These have always been very good reasons to keep my mouth shut. Nothing's changed.

Still, I can't help but hear a little nagging voice in the back of my head as I lie down in my bed. What if things did change? What if I change them? Could I make a choice to try to be with Katniss?

Have I thought of any _better_ way to make my decision?

* * *

The silence between the three of us right now is almost deafening. Thank god we're not alone; it doesn't seem quite so awkward if I just pretend that I'm listening to the excited chatter of the other families around me.

We're on our way to the Choosing Ceremony right now, bouncing along the cracked pavement in the back of one of Amity's trucks. Usually these trucks are used to transport the crops we grow into the city, where they're distributed among all the factions. But today, the trucks are being used to take all of the soon-to-be initiates, and our families, into the city for the ceremony.

Even though Mom and Dad have a pretty good idea of the outcome of today's ceremony - at least as it concerns them - they have to come to publicly show support for me anyway. Dad is sitting next to me right now, between me and my mother, nervously jiggling his legs. Every now and then he looks back and forth between me and Mom, almost as if he wants to say something, but he always changes his mind and stays silent. My mother, wearing her nicest yellow dress, sits stiffly (or at least, as stiffly as she can in the back of a truck) with her mouth pressed into a thin line. She hasn't looked my way since we left the compound. In fact, she's barely even spoken to me today.

I run my hand through my hair and sigh, staring thoughtfully at the city as it gets closer and closer. Our destination, the Hub, is easy to spot from here, even among all the other skyscrapers looming in the distance. It's easily the tallest building in the city, although it's hard to envision a time when all of its 100-plus levels were ever needed. But we were taught in history class that the Hub - or the Sears Tower, as it used to be known - was formerly a part of a bustling, fully-occupied city. Not the half-crumbling ruin I see before me now.

Most of the time I've spent in the city has been for school, and I've always been fine with that. I never liked the city, with its long walls of tall buildings surrounding me. Everything concrete, and glass, and metal. It feels stifling. I've always much preferred to be at home in Amity, the only faction that lives outside of the city itself. Because my faction grows the food that feeds everyone, we have open space and land for our crops. We have grass, and trees, and dirt. I only know about where the other factions live from our classes in school, but from what little I know, I think I'll always prefer the setting in Amity.

We're close to the edge of the city now - the buildings are getting closer together, and I can hear the trains rumbling in the distance. As suffocating and dreary as everything around me is, I know I'm going to have to get used to living here. I'm pretty sure that I've narrowed my faction choices to two - Candor and Erudite - and they're both located in the heart of the city.

I couldn't figure out any good way to choose. Katniss or my brothers. Honesty or knowledge. I'm not sure where I fit.

All I know is that things are going to be very different after today. I turn slightly to my right and lean forward, glancing back and forth between my parents. It occurs to me that this bumpy ride into the city is probably the last time I'll ever be this close to them.

After a few more minutes, our small fleet of Amity trucks arrives at the Hub and we make our way into the elevators for the ride to the ceremony on the 20th floor. From the reds and yellows of the clothing I see around me, it looks like there are only Amity in this elevator right now. I can't see that well, though; there must be thirty people packed into the tight space, and I'm pressed tightly up against the back wall.

I let out a deep breath when the doors finally open. Given how unsettled I'm feeling, knowing what's to come - knowing that I haven't made my choice yet but that_ I'll have to soon_ - I don't think I could've endured another second in that confined space.

As we make our way into the room where the Choosing Ceremony will take place, Dad and I fall into step behind Mom. As she walks ahead, Dad grabs my arm and pulls me to a stop, letting the others stream around us into the room.

"What is it?" I ask, confused.

Dad looks nervously in the direction that my mother's walking, but she hasn't noticed his absence yet. He puts his hands on my shoulders and stares for a moment, looking into my eyes sadly. Then he pulls me to him and wraps his arms around me. "I'm so sorry, Son," he whispers. "For everything."

I feel my eyes start to well with tears, but I blink furiously, refusing to let them fall. No one's going to see my emotions or my hesitation now, not even my dad. Lamely, I pat his back and tell him, "It's okay." Even though it isn't.

He releases me abruptly, knowing that Mom has probably noticed his absence by now. We hurry into the room without exchanging another word, until at the last second, as he's about to head to his seat with the other members of Amity, Dad looks at me with finality and says, "Goodbye, Peeta."

He knows I'm not coming back.

I take my place with the other young men and women who will become faction initiates after the ceremony today. Although our families sit grouped by faction, we're mixed together, lined up behind them in alphabetical order, in a semi-circle extending part of the way around the room. There are fewer 16 year-olds this year than I've seen in the past; when my brothers had their Choosing Ceremonies, the initiates circled the room completely.

Each year, one faction has the responsibility for leading the ceremony, and this year that task falls to Dauntless. One of their leaders, Rebekah Paylor, takes her place in the center of the room and begins reading the familiar words that begin the Choosing Ceremony.

She clears her throat and begins, her voice ringing loudly and clearly in the large room. "Welcome to the Choosing Ceremony. Welcome to the day we honor the Democratic philosophy of our ancestors, which tells us that every man has the right to choose his own way in the world."

I shift restlessly on my feet, letting my mind wander as she continues speaking, talking about the honor of choosing our factions and what each faction represents. I can't make myself listen to the words. My nervousness is only getting worse, starting to morph into something that might be fear. Fear that I'll make the wrong choice. Fear that I'll walk to the center of the room_ without _a choice.

I try not to look around me; I don't want to see my family, or my friends, or anyone that I know. I don't want them to see me either. I can't risk anyone looking into my eyes and knowing what I'm feeling. My face, I hope, is an emotionless mask, not betraying any of my inner turmoil.

There are five bowls in the center of the room, each filled with a substance representing one of the five factions. For Amity, it's the familiar earth, taken from the ground that I've left behind forever. Abnegation's bowl contains grey stones, Erudite's water, Candor's glass, and Dauntless's burning coals. When my name is called in a few moments, Rebekah will hand me a knife and I'll use it to slice open the palm of my hand, letting my blood flow into the bowl of the faction I choose.

The idea of cutting my hand open - of willingly inflicting myself with pain - used to scare me when I was a young boy. But now I realize that it's the least scary part of the ceremony; I'll be doing exactly what everyone else is doing. And I know exactly what's expected of me. It's the "choosing" part of this day that's really frightening.

Soon enough, the first names are called and my peers begin choosing their factions. Rebekah calls the names in order, starting at the beginning of the alphabet, so I have some time to wait.

And watch.

And worry.

Of my friends, Delly Cartwright is called first, and I am completely unsurprised to see her pick Amity. No hesitation at all. She was born for Amity, honestly.

Octavia is called soon after Delly, and I find myself feeling an incredible sense of relief that her last name - Chapel - comes before mine in the alphabet. I don't think she'd actually do it, but I don't want to give her the opportunity to even _consider_ following me to my new faction. I heave a sigh of relief, as quietly as possible, when I see that she's also chosen to remain in Amity. As she walks to join the other new Amity initiates, she looks directly at me and smiles. I don't return it.

I bounce on my feet a bit and stare at the ceiling as the next few names are called. No surprises, no faction transfers. I try to tune everything out and focus on my own situation, but I'm brought back to reality when I hear Rebekah call Katniss Everdeen to the center of the room.

I turn to my left just in time to see her stride confidently toward the five bowls. Her dark brown braid swings as she walks, sharply contrasting with her white shirt. When she reaches the center of the room, she hesitates for a fraction of a second before quickly slicing into her palm and dripping her blood over the coals of Dauntless.

I blink in confusion. _Dauntless_?

Katniss, a faction transfer?

There are murmurs all around me in the room - not at all surprising given that Katniss is the first transfer of the day - but I don't really register what the people are saying. I simply watch her as she walks across the room to stand with the other Dauntless initiates. She stares straight ahead with a scowl on her face - from here I can't tell if it's her normal scowl or if she's trying to fit in with her new faction - resolutely refusing to look at anyone or acknowledge the stir that she just created.

Suddenly, I find myself even more confused than I was before. I shouldn't be, though, because maybe Katniss just made my choice for me. After all, why would I go to Candor if she's not there? I should just pick Erudite, right?

But it occurs to me that now, Katniss and I have something in common. We're both faction transfers - or at least, I will be in a few minutes when my name is called. We're both going to be alone in a new place. We're both starting over. We'll both be friendless. Unless...

My mind is made up just as Rebekah calls my name to come forward. I don't know if what I'm about to do is crazy or just stupid. But I do it anyway: I hold my hand over the coals and officially make myself a Dauntless initiate.

I don't notice if anyone is shocked as I walk to join my new faction; they can't possibly be more shocked than I am. But I also feel...elated. My choice is made. I'm never going back to Amity now. I catch Katniss's eye briefly as I join the other initiates. She gives me a perplexed look, as if she's trying to figure something out, but quickly enough replaces it with the scowl she's been wearing throughout the ceremony.

No more than a few minutes pass before the ceremony finally ends, and that's when I get the courage to take a last look in my parents' direction. After all, I won't be returning with them to Amity, so what do I have to be afraid of? I see my dad pinching the bridge of his nose with a sad, weary expression on his face. My mother, on the other hand, is wearing the practiced neutral look that I've seen her use so many times to cover up her anger. Neither of them look at me before I'm pushed forward and out of the room, just one in a sea of Dauntless.

I'm not really certain what's happening or where exactly we're going, but I allow myself to be pulled along in the crowd of Dauntless initiates and their families. We rush down the stairs - all twenty flights of them - before we spill out into the sunshine in front of the Hub.

I've lost track of Katniss amidst all the confusion, but I only see three other people in our group who seem to be transfers like me. A boy and a girl wearing the simple grey clothes that mark them as coming from Abnegation. Another girl wearing glasses and a blue sweater, meaning she most likely came from Erudite. Besides those three, every single other person around me is dressed from head to toe in black: Dauntless colors.

I hardly have time to reflect on what I'm seeing though, because as if they were given some kind of signal, the entire group starts running excitedly at full speed down the street. I take off after them, trying my best to keep up and not topple over from the unfamiliar exertion.

Soon a hand claws at my arm from my right side; I whip my head to see who it is: Katniss.

"Dauntless?" she pants, disbelief evident in her voice.

I'm too out of breath to say much of anything, so I just nod my head. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She nods in response but wisely decides not to waste her breath talking anymore. We run side-by-side down the street until the group slows as we approach the train tracks.

I gulp nervously and glance to Katniss at my side. She seems utterly unfazed by the prospect of what's to come.

Trains run throughout the city, but the only faction who rides them is Dauntless. As far as I can tell, the Dauntless are a group of thrill-seekers, and they don't seem to mind that the trains here don't actually _stop_. They just roll by, doors open, waiting for passengers to jump aboard. I've never even ridden on a train before today, much less jumped on one. But from the looks of things, with the Dauntless lined up expectantly along the tracks, poised to leap aboard, that's exactly what I'm going to have to do.

"You ready, Peeta?" Katniss asks.

"Are _you_?" I counter.

She laughs and glances away from me toward the oncoming train. "I wore pants today just for this." In all of the excitement, it's the first time I've noticed what she's wearing. Unlike most of the girls today, who wore their nicest dresses for the ceremony, she's wearing a simple white shirt and black pants. Easier for running and jumping, I guess.

But the train is getting nearer and nearer, and I'm far too nervous to think of a reply. Katniss seems to sense my fear though, because I feel her reach for my shaking hand. I look down at where our hands are joined, and then back up to her face. She gives me a reassuring smile and I tighten my grip on her hand in response.

"On the count of three?" she asks, watching the train carefully as she tugs me forward. We start slowly jogging alongside the tracks, just like everyone else.

I let out a shaky breath. "The count of three," I confirm.

We count in unison. "One...two...three!" And we jump, together.

* * *

**A/N: Apologize for the second note – I usually only include these at the beginning. But there were just a couple of things I wanted to say here.**

**There are several direct quotes from Divergent and Insurgent above. Quotes from the Choosing Ceremony (both when Peeta thinks about it while he's at the reflection service and from when they are actually at the ceremony itself) are taken from Divergent, p41-42. Quotes from the Amity religious service are taken from Insurgent, p439.**

**Also, I chose not to describe what actually happens in the aptitude test. Basically, Peeta (and all the other 16 year olds) was given a serum to drink that caused a simulation to occur in his mind, and then he made choices that told him which faction was his result. If you want to read a better description of the test, you can go to the Divergent wiki (divergent . wikia. com (slash) wiki (slash) Aptitude_Test). (remove spaces; replace (slash) with /)**

**Finally, if you're into The Hunger Games, did you know that I'm also writing another story? It's called The Endless In-Between, and it's a collaborative effort being published under the author name amazingpanemmemories. Please check it out if you're interested!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I completely apologize for the long wait for this chapter! I'm planning to update more quickly in the future, especially now that I got a few other things off my plate.**

**Thanks to my lovely beta sunfishdunes, and to sohypothetically for pre-reading. I appreciate all your help!**

**I want to point out in advance that I've made a slight change to the Dauntless initiation process, which was necessary to advance the plot of this story. I apologize for the change, but it's very minor.**

**Let me know what you think! Leave a review or come find me on tumblr: soamazinghere.**

* * *

I can barely breathe, much less think. Is this really the best time to give us a tour of our new home? How am I supposed to pay attention right now?

I stumble down the poorly-lit corridor, following closely behind Katniss. She seems nervous too, which makes me feel a little bit better. At least I can confirm that she's human, especially after everything that we had to do to get here.

I shouldn't have been so worried about jumping onto the train. That was nothing compared to what followed: jumping from the train - from an elevated portion of the track - onto the roof of a building, at least seven stories off the ground.

And then - _and then_ - just when my heart finally slowed down and I caught my breath, the Dauntless leaders marched us to the edge of the roof, pointed into a black hole that was who knows how deep, and told us we had to jump into it. I barely remember any of it, except that I have never been so fucking scared in my entire life.

None of this seemed to bother Katniss a bit, which is why I'm relieved to see the signs of nervousness on her face now.

I don't like this feeling. What is it? Adrenaline? I don't know, but I hate it, and I don't think I'll ever get used to it.

Inadvertently, I bump into the shoulder of the Erudite girl walking next to me and she gives me an icy glare. Right now, our little group contains only the five of us who transferred from other factions. The Dauntless-born don't need a tour, so they split off from our group a few minutes ago.

In all of the excitement of just getting here, I didn't have a chance to notice how many of the initiates were Dauntless-born before they left with the other instructor. I think his name was Boggs, but honestly I was barely paying attention.

Our instructor - Johanna, I think? - is leading us far too quickly through a tour of Dauntless headquarters. Or the "Pit," as she told us this place is called. I guess that fits - we seem to be several stories underground here.

I try my best to focus as Johanna leads us through our new home, but it's a difficult task given how shaky I'm feeling at the moment. If Johanna senses my jitters, or the nervousness of any of my fellow transfer initiates, she doesn't show it. She barely acknowledges us at all, as a matter of fact.

Johanna's fairly small, several inches shorter than I am - shorter than Katniss, even - but she has a more intimidating presence than anyone I've ever met. She'd probably even give my mom a run for her money. Her clothes are typical for Dauntless - tight black jeans and a black tank top. The sleeveless top emphasizes the definition of her arm muscles. And her arms are all the more striking because they're completely covered in tattoos, although I can't get close enough to see what they are. Her pierced eyebrows and short, spiky black hair complete the look. Dauntless through and through.

She leads us up a path and into a small dormitory-style room containing 10 beds. After we all file in, she closes the door behind us and leans on it, crossing her arms over her chest as she appraises the group. I stand, stiff and awkward, not knowing exactly what she's looking for or why.

I try to mirror her pose - anything to make it look like I actually belong here. Or at least to fool everyone here into thinking I'm not scared shitless right now.

Johanna smirks at the five of us. Next to me, the large Abnegation boy sneezes, but quickly attempts to stifle it when it draws Johanna's attention. She narrows her eyes at him before speaking to the group. "Alright, kids," she begins, "this lovely room is where you'll all be getting to know each other _very well_ over the next few weeks. Don't get used to the extra beds - we're taking them out later. We usually have more transfers than we got this year."

I glance surreptitiously around the room, trying not to completely take my eyes off Johanna. The space definitely looks like it's made for more than five people. It doesn't look homey or comfortable or anything like that - the windowless area has bare walls, harsh lighting, and utilitarian beds - but it's spacious, at least.

"We're not starting initiation today," Johanna continues loudly, "but I'm going to give you a quick introduction of what you can expect."

She walks slowly in front of us, peering intently at everyone as if she's doing an inspection. I shift nervously on my feet. I'd really like to sit down after all the running we've been doing today, but something tells me that would be frowned upon right now.

Johanna snorts as she finishes appraising the group. She doesn't look impressed, but she continues her speech without commenting on what she sees. "Dauntless initiation has several phases, and you'll find out more about them when we start tomorrow. Here's what you need to know for now: we'll be ranking all of you - and even though we have you separated now, you'll be ranked right alongside the Dauntless-born initiates." She raises her eyebrows at the five of us. "So you guys will have some catching up to do."

I steal a quick glance at Katniss, who stands to my right. Her face is a blank mask; I have no idea what she's thinking right now.

"The rankings are kept secret," Johanna continues, "and they won't come into play until the very end." She stops her pacing and faces the group, arms clasped behind her back. "All I can tell you is to do your best - I don't have any other advice, so don't bother asking. There aren't any tricks to the rankings."

She narrows her eyes as she falls silent for a few moments. Is she expecting us to say something?

After a few moments of uncomfortable, intimidating silence, all of us wondering what she's going to do or say next, Johanna continues. "None of you want to know anything more about the rankings? No questions? Not even from the Candor smart mouth over here?" she asks, giving Katniss's shoulder a small shove. I see Katniss take a deep breath, but she doesn't speak up.

Johanna moves away from us, shaking her head. "The rankings have two purposes," she explains. "After initiation is over, you get to select your jobs. Top-ranked initiates get first choice." She pauses for a few moments, a small smile playing across her mouth. "And we also use them to help decide who makes it into Dauntless."

_Decide who makes it into Dauntless_? What the hell does that mean? We go through initiation and become members, right? I didn't think there was any more to it than that. Looking around at my fellow transfers, the rest of them seem as confused as I am. Johanna stands in front of us, barely able to hide her glee at our bewildered reaction. But she's not telling us anything more, so I decide to step up on behalf of the group.

"What does that mean?" I ask nervously. "Don't we all become Dauntless after initiation?"

She steps closer to me and cocks her head to the side thoughtfully. "We don't get too many of you banjo-strumming softies transferring over here. I'm going to have fun with you," she laughs. Straightening up, she takes a few steps back and clears her throat. "But to answer your question - no, you do _not_ all become Dauntless. Only the top initiates become members."

Another silence. I speak up for the group again, even though I know I don't want to hear her answer. "What happens to the rest?"

"They become factionless," she responds matter-of-factly.

Factionless. I hear the word, but I can barely believe it. I've seen the factionless from time to time, but not often, since most of them stay within the confines of the city rather than wandering out as far as the Amity compound.

Being outside of the protection of a faction isn't something I've ever considered. Even living with my mother would be preferable to a factionless life, huddling in abandoned buildings, depending on Abnegation volunteers to bring food and clothing. Wandering the streets alone, not welcome in the territory of any faction.

I've often wondered how people end up factionless. I always assumed that they were criminals or had done something that warranted kicking them out of their faction. Never once had I considered the possibility of _failing initiation_. Of course, I grew up in Amity, and no one fails initiation there. How could they, when all it involves is picking fruit from the orchards and memorizing song lyrics?

Obviously things are going to be different here, though.

Suddenly, an outburst from Katniss interrupts my thoughts. "That's bullshit!" she exclaims angrily. "You won't let us know our rankings? How will we know if we need to do better?"

Johanna walks slowly toward Katniss and stops right in front of her, crossing her arms and giving her a challenging look. I see Katniss's lips harden into a thin line as she tries to hold Johanna's gaze. "You'll just have to do your best," Johanna says coolly.

"How many initiates will make it, then?" Our gazes turn away from Katniss and toward the Erudite girl standing to my left. Her brown hair is pulled into a long ponytail, and she's removed the glasses she was wearing for most of the day. Her face is placid, not showing any fear or anxiousness. Leave it to an Erudite to try to cut through the tension with a factual question.

Johanna shakes her head and moves toward the door. "I can't tell you that. We want everyone to try their best, not just to skate by." She opens the door to our room, making her way to leave. "Get some rest tonight," she emphasizes, "because we're starting bright and early tomorrow. But you have the rest of the day free." With one final glance at the five of us, she exits, leaving our little group standing in stunned silence.

There's an audible exhalation when Johanna's finally gone, as if we'd all been afraid to even breathe in her presence. We each slowly take in the space around us and eventually shuffle toward the various bunks, claiming them for our own. I'm relieved when Katniss climbs onto the one directly above mine.

No one says anything, but after a few minutes, I can't stand the quiet any longer. I turn around and lean awkwardly against the bed frame, looking around the room at my fellow transfers. "Um, I'm Peeta," I offer, speaking to no one in particular. "Maybe we should…introduce ourselves?"

The Abnegation girl snorts and rolls her eyes, ignoring me as she continues unpacking her bag. The other Abnegation - a tall, serious-looking boy with short-cropped black hair - glares intently at her back and speaks up, almost as if to spite her. "I'm Thresh," he says, walking over and giving my hand a firm shake.

The Erudite girl, who's assumed a cross-legged position on her bed, observing the rest of us closely, speaks up next. "Enobaria," she tells us. "Nice to meet you," she adds flatly.

With a heavy sigh, Katniss sits up on her bed and waves. "I'm Katniss."

The room falls silent once more as we look at the Abnegation girl, waiting to see if she'll speak to us. She looks younger than her sixteen years, her dark brown hair pulled back in the simple bun that Abnegation women wear. Her face is plastered with an annoyed, almost angry, look as she finally huffs, "Clove."

"Um, great," I say in response. "Nice to…" I trail off as Clove jumps off her bed and stalks across the room, throwing the door open and leaving abruptly. "Meet you," I finish lamely.

Katniss scoots over on her bed, leaning forward and tapping me on the shoulder. "Maybe we should get out of here too," she whispers in my ear. I nod my head. That sounds like a really good idea right now.

Thresh looks thoughtfully between Katniss and me - maybe he's surprised to see that we know each other, given that we're obviously from two different factions. He doesn't say a word about whatever he might have noticed, though. He just shoves his hands in his pockets and mumbles, "I'm going to take a look around." He leaves the room, followed quickly by Enobaria.

I hear Katniss leap to the ground behind me. Catching me off-guard, she moves in front of me and wraps her arms tightly, but briefly, around my waist. But before I even have a chance to hug her back, she's already moving away.

"What was that for?" I ask, startled by the gesture.

"Come on, let's go," she says, ignoring my question as she tugs me to the door. "I'm hungry."

* * *

Katniss and I leave the dorm and make our way into the dimly-lit hallway. I can hear the sounds of people off in the distance, but there's no one around us right now. We're alone. It's our first chance to really talk since we got here. But it seems like, for once, neither of us has a clue what to say to the other.

We walk aimlessly in silence for a few minutes before the sound of rushing water tells me where we've ended up: the chasm. Johanna brought us here on our tour a few hours ago; I barely got a chance to glance at it then, but now Katniss and I walk right up to the railing and look down.

I can hardly believe this actually exists - an entire river rushing underneath the building. When we stopped here on our tour earlier, Johanna warned us not to jump in, that we'd probably get killed. From what I see below me - the sharp rocks with fast-moving water pounding into them - I can't believe that anyone would even consider doing that. That's probably not a very Dauntless thing of me to think, though.

Katniss leans her back against the railing and turns to me. "What did you think of Johanna?" she says loudly, her voice competing with the sound of the water below.

I think for a moment. "Scary," I tell her finally with a small laugh.

"What?" she shouts.

"I said - " I stop myself before continuing. It might not be the best idea to have a conversation about our new instructor in a public place where we have to shout to be heard. Looking around, I spy a nearby hallway that looks deserted. I angle my head in that direction, gesturing for Katniss to follow me.

At the end of the corridor, underneath a small light fixture, Katniss and I sink down onto the floor next to each other. My ears are recovering from the loud sound; the crashing water is just a muffled roar in the distance now. "Sorry about that," I tell her. "I just didn't want anyone to overhear us."

Katniss pulls her knees into her chest and nods in understanding. "So...what were you saying?"

"Oh," I chuckle nervously. "Just that she scares me. She could kick my ass," I admit sheepishly.

Katniss doesn't reply for a few moments, and when I glance at her, I catch her staring at my arms. She averts her gaze quickly when she realizes that she's been caught.

"What?" I ask.

"You just...don't look like you'd have any trouble dealing with her," she mumbles evasively. She straightens her back and clears her throat, looking straight ahead at the wall. "You seem strong."

I just shrug in response. Working in the farms and the orchard, and carrying some of the heavier kitchen supplies, might have added a few muscles here and there, but Johanna is a trained fighter. _I_ wouldn't bet on me in a fight.

Changing the subject, I ask, "Did you notice how many Dauntless-born initiates there are?"

She sighs and shakes her head. "I didn't get a good look," she admits. "I think there were less than 10, but I'm not sure."

"How can we possibly compete against them?" I groan, dropping my head into my hands.

"Maybe they won't be any better than us," Katniss says hopefully. It sounds like she's trying to convince herself of this, as well as me. She nudges my side. "We don't even know what we'll be doing yet."

I lift my head and give Katniss a skeptical look. The next words slip out of me before I have a chance to think better of it. "It doesn't matter. The whole factionless thing changes everything, and the Dauntless kids already have a leg up on us." I shake my head in frustration. "I might not have picked Dauntless if I'd known…" I trail off, finally coming to my senses. This isn't a topic I wanted to discuss with Katniss, or anyone really.

She gives me a surprised look. "I never considered going against my test result. I know I belong here." She pauses and bites her lip before continuing quietly, as if what she's asking is some kind of secret. "Would you have gone against yours, Peeta?"

If only she knew. On the other hand, I'm glad she made the assumption that my result was Dauntless; hopefully it means that she doesn't question my motive for coming here. But still, to avoid having to lie to her, I whisper back, "I don't think we're supposed to talk about our test results."

Katniss gives me a look - one of those quintessential Candor "I'm trying to figure you out" looks - so I turn my head away from her. I wipe my palms on my pants and stand, holding my hands out to help her up. "Let's head to the cafeteria. You said you were hungry," I remind her.

Her eyes light up as we walk down the hall. "They're supposed to have really good cake here," she tells me excitedly.

We walk in comfortable silence for a few minutes, taking in our surroundings, trying to adjust to the noise and the bustle of the compound. Before we get to the cafeteria, Katniss gasps and pulls me abruptly off to the side of the corridor, out of the way of the other Dauntless streaming by.

She grabs my hand and presses herself close to my side - uncomfortably close, to be honest, since I really need to be focusing on other things right now besides the unresolved feelings I have for her. And it's difficult not to react to her presence when she's so close.

She whispers in my ear, "I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable before, when I asked about your test result."

Backing away a little bit, in a hushed tone she asks me, "Can I tell you something?" I nod. "The truth is, for a long time I haven't felt like I fit in Candor. I hated the pressure of telling the truth all the time...and being really talkative...and having constant confrontations about every little disagreement."

I nod again, even though I have no idea why she's telling me this. She continues. "Being here is a totally new start for me, you know? I don't want to be Candor anymore." She gives me a look almost like she's expecting some kind of response, but I don't know what to say. I just look at her confusedly, so she forges ahead. "You don't have to be Amity anymore either, Peeta. It's a new start for _both_ of us."

With those words, Katniss points across the hallway, to the tattoo parlor. "Let's make ourselves Dauntless," she says.

"By getting a tattoo?" I ask. As I look around me at the other Dauntless walking by, there are hardly any - maybe none - who don't have visible tattoos. But it seems so…permanent. And if I end up factionless, it'll remind me forever of my failure.

She nods hurriedly. "We'll fit in better if we look the part." She grabs my hand and tugs me along behind her. "Come on!"

Thankfully, Katniss still has enough Candor in her to sense my hesitation, because when we enter the shop, she marches up to the artist and tells him that we want the smallest, safest tattoos to start with. "Dauntless symbols," she explains to the man. "I want one right here," she says, pointing to her wrist, "and he wants one there." She pulls up my shirt sleeve and points to a spot high on my arm, just below the shoulder.

"You can hide it under your shirt," she mutters, trying not to let the tattoo artist hear her.

The man nods and leads us back to the chair where he'll actually do the tattoos. As we follow him, he introduces himself. "I'm Aurelius," he says as Katniss flops down in the chair, boldly volunteering to go first. He looks at each of us appraisingly before he continues. "If you want any other designs in the future, just find me. We have a book of pictures you can use," he says, gesturing to the table at his left, "or we can talk about doing something original."

Katniss raises her eyebrows at me and we share an amused look. "I'm sure we'll be back again," she informs him confidently, her eyes never leaving mine.

* * *

_Ow_, I yelp internally, shaking out my hand and flexing my fingers. I'm doing my best to remember Johanna's quick, five-minute fighting "lesson" that she gave before she sent us here to start practicing on punching bags, but it's all flown out of my head already. Every time I hit the bag, it just hurts. I roll my shoulders a few times, trying to focus. What did she say about the best stance for a powerful hit? Am I holding my arms correctly? Wasn't there something about keeping tension in my core?

I cast my eyes surreptitiously around the room, trying to see how the others are doing right now. For the most part, their arms are flying too quickly for me to get a sense of their form; it sure doesn't look like anyone else is feeling as much hesitation as I am right now.

As always, my eyes are drawn to Katniss. It's hard for me not to stare at her small, lithe form as she pummels the punching bag. She's a natural. Her braid is whipping from side to side as she hits the bag using different punches, different angles. I gulp nervously when I realize that I could be standing in that punching bag's place in just a few short days.

Johanna wasn't kidding when she told us yesterday to get some rest. Way too early this morning - there are no windows in our room, so I have no idea what time it was - she loudly barged into our room, waking us up and forcing us to get ready for the first phase of our Dauntless initiation: fighting and weapons training.

Out of those choices, I don't know which I dread more. We've started with fighting - Johanna says we'll move to weapons later - and clearly I'm not off to a promising start. But the worst part about the fighting training is that, as part of initiation, I'll have to fight all of the other transfer initiates. Including Katniss.

As I see Johanna slowly working her way toward me, I make a show of returning to my practice, slamming my fist into the bag with all my might. As I continue punching, I take another look around the room at my fellow transfers, my soon-to-be opponents.

I think I can handle Clove - she's tiny and bony - but on the other hand, she looks fierce and is inexplicably angry all the time. I wonder how she survived 16 years among the Abnegation. Enobaria and Thresh scare me, though. They're both taller than I am, and from the looks of things, are already much more competent fighters. Thresh seems like a nice person, but he's pretty muscular, and just as important, he seems determined to succeed in initiation. He won't take it easy on anyone, I'm sure. Enobaria is hard to read; she's quiet, but from the few interactions we've had, I wouldn't be surprised if she were to snap at any second.

And I can't even begin to conceive of how I'm going to make myself fight Katniss.

My thoughts must have distracted me from my practice, because all of a sudden, Johanna barks in my ear, "Blondie! Are you slacking off on me?"

I shake my head and resume my attack on the punching bag. Johanna stands back, arms folded, as she watches my form with an unreadable look on her face. Part of me wishes she'd just tell me what I'm doing wrong.

Eventually, she places a hand on my back and one on my shoulder, correcting my posture and demonstrating once again what she tried to explain earlier. As she moves away, she gives my bicep a squeeze, saying discouragingly, "I'm surprised you're not better at this. With a build like this, I just assumed you would be."

I sigh in frustration and take another swing at the bag. "I used to lift heavy bags of flour in the kitchens back at Amity," I explain in between punches. "I've never fought anyone in my life."

"And it shows," she says, raising her eyebrows. "Keep working. You won't be killing anyone here with a sack of flour." She cackles loudly at her own joke as she saunters away.

I watch her back as she leaves, rolling my eyes. I turn to the punching bag just in time for it to swing back toward me, knocking me off-balance. I grab the bag to steady myself but can't suppress the tiny grunt that escapes from my mouth as I'm hit.

"Watch yourself," Johanna calls mockingly from where she now stands near Enobaria. "You'll never survive initiation if you can be distracted that easily."

* * *

I've avoided it so far, but I knew this day would come eventually. When I walked into the training room this morning and looked at the chalkboard that lists which initiates are fighting each other, I saw the name I'd most been dreading scrawled next to mine in Johanna's neat script: Katniss.

I have trouble even _watching_ Katniss fight others - it's been difficult for me to stay in the room when she does, knowing what I might have to see - much less contemplating fighting her myself. There are virtually no rules for our fights, nothing that's considered out of bounds. You just do what you need to do to win. And there's no firmly-defined end-point to the fight; we always continue until someone is incapacitated or gives up. Which means that someone _always_ gets hurt, often badly.

So far, I've been doing decently, although I only have two fights behind me. Still, I'm not too banged up, so I'm not entirely unhappy with my performance. I got off to a bad start on the first day with Clove, of all people. She taught me not to underestimate her, that's for sure. She's small, but fast, and once she was able to trip me and knock me down, she kicked me in the stomach until I gave up. Not my proudest moment, but it definitely gave me the motivation to try harder on day two.

My second fight was Thresh, and I don't think anyone was more surprised than me that I actually beat him. I'll admit that it was partially luck, though. We started out fairly evenly-matched, to the point where we were struggling to actually land punches on each other, but at some point I accidentally tripped and knocked both of us to the ground. I panicked, not entirely sure what to do once we were on the floor all I knew was that I wanted to protect my midsection from another assault after what had happened with Clove so I grabbed one of his arms and twisted as hard as I could. Whatever I did must've been right, because he yelped with pain and eventually begged me to let go.

But even though I feel okay about my performance up to this point, I was incompetent enough to not be optimistic about how I'd fare against someone who actually knows what they're doing. Like the Dauntless-born initiates. So far, Johanna hasn't said that we'll have to fight them, and I hope we never do. There's no way I'd stand a chance.

Right now, Katniss, Thresh, and I are sitting together on the wooden floor of the training room, waiting for today's first fight to begin. Enobaria crosses in front of us and glares at Katniss, who responds nonchalantly with a wave and a cheerful "good morning." At that, Enobaria stalks off in frustration, clearly still angry about the black eye she's sporting courtesy of Katniss.

I stifle my laugh, looking down at the ground to avoid being seen. Katniss's hand rests next to my own; I touch my shoulder involuntarily when I notice the small Dauntless symbol on her wrist. It matches exactly the tattoo she was eventually able to convince me to get. I nudge her with my arm, and our eyes meet. We smile at each other nervously.

In contrast to my own bumbling attempts to fight my fellow initiates, Katniss has been doing very well. Although I didn't really see much of either of her fights - I could barely bring myself to look - she's managed to win them both. Against Enobaria and Clove. Katniss has gotten a little banged up in the process, just some bad bruises mostly, but for the most part she's fine. She's more than fine - she's absolutely amazing.

Clove and Enobaria are fighting each other now, and they begin as the rest of us look on. It's brutal. The two of them look desperate to win, like they'll do literally anything to be the one who comes out on top.

"Holy shit," I hear Katniss mutter next to me as she watches Clove smash her elbow into Enobaria's stomach and then push her roughly to the ground. "Clove looks like she wants to _kill_ her."

"I think Clove wants to kill all of us," I whisper, wincing involuntarily as I see Clove go for the kick to the abdomen, just like she did with me. Enobaria, thankfully, is able to roll out of the way before the foot connects.

What am I going to do when Katniss and I are up next? There is absolutely no way I could fight Katniss like Enobaria and Clove are fighting with each other. There's blood running down Clove's forehead now, for god's sake; I don't even know how Enobaria did that without a weapon. I can't do that to Katniss. Would Katniss do that to me?

I barely realize how distracted I've become, until I'm surprised by hearing Johanna call an end to the fight. At some point, Clove had ended up on top of Enobaria, straddling her as she punched Enobaria's face over and over again. Blood is pouring out of Enobaria's nose and mouth; Clove definitely seems to have managed to get revenge for whatever happened to her forehead. I'm horrified by the smug, satisfied look on Clove's face as Johanna drags her off her opponent.

Clove walks across the room and sits by herself, smirking as she watches Johanna checking on Enobaria's injuries. Eventually, Johanna leaves the room and finds the other instructor, Boggs, who comes and escorts Enobaria out of the room. Presumably to the infirmary.

Johanna watches as they leave, then turns to Katniss and me. "Enough gawking, kids. You're up."

Katniss and I rise to our feet and walk together to the center of the room. My hands twitch; I don't know what to do with them. I know I don't want to have to use them to _hit Katniss_, though. I close my eyes and take a deep breath; when I open them I see Katniss staring at me expectantly, jutting her hand out for me to shake. I take it and mutter, "Good luck."

"You, too," she responds quietly. And before I even have a chance to think about what to do next, she lunges forward and crashes her elbow into my chest. _Hard_. I stagger backwards, reeling from the blow, but still reluctant to react.

Katniss launches herself at me again, landing several good punches to my stomach, in the area that's still incredibly sensitive from my fight with Clove two days ago. As I double over in pain, I notice the pleading look in Katniss's eyes. It's barely audible over the sound of my heavy breathing, but I swear I hear her whisper, "You _have_ to."

I nod, whether to myself or to her, I'm not sure. I stagger away from her as quickly as I can, trying to gather myself together. She's right - I have to fight her. If I want to have any hope of not ending up factionless, I have no choice.

This time, as she rushes at me, I manage to move to the side and avoid her. She stops herself and moves toward me again, of course, but this time I'm ready. I fly at her and land a very successful right hook to her chin. And I force myself not to think about what I just did, not to notice the look of pain on her face or the way she raises her hand to her chin, because if I did, I'm not sure I could possibly continue.

The next few minutes I spend on auto-pilot, trying to distance myself from my actions and just get to the end of the fight. I know I hit Katniss and I know she hits me, but I have no strategy and no plan to win. I can fight her, but I don't know how to make myself hurt her badly enough to end the fight. And if I didn't know better, I'd say that she's holding back a bit on her punches as well. But this isn't working for either of us, because it just means that the fight continues.

Suddenly, I see Katniss take a deep breath before rushing at me at top speed. But she doesn't hit me this time; she just barrels forward until we collide. Our arms and legs tangle together; I try to extricate myself and move away, but I trip and fall heavily backwards, landing awkwardly on the ground. My back slaps the floor so firmly that it knocks the air out of my lungs, and I lie there struggling to regain my breath.

At this point, Johanna moves into our space. "Okay, enough you two. Good job, Katniss," she says, clapping her on the back. "Another win." Johanna then moves toward me and reaches out her hand. I take it and ease myself to standing. "As for you, Mellark, you're going to have to do _a lot_ better."

I don't even care right now, I'm just glad to have this fight behind me. With any luck, I'll never have to do that again. I look at Katniss as she raises her eyes to mine; I notice a strange mix of relief and guilt.

* * *

"Katniss!" I exclaim, looking around the dormitory and seeing that she's alone. It's safe for me to speak freely. "I'm so, _so_ sorry for what I did to your face."

After our long day of training, we'd finally finished and been allowed a few hours of free time. I've been trying all evening to find Katniss alone so that we could talk for the first time since our fight this morning. Eventually, I tracked her down in our dormitory, lying on her bunk, staring silently at the ceiling as she pressed an ice pack to her bruised chin. And even though I suspect it makes me seem weak - at least as far as the Dauntless are concerned - I wanted to apologize.

She pushes herself to a sitting position. "What, this?" she asks, removing the ice and showing me the ugly-looking purple contusion underneath. I cringe involuntarily; it looks so painful, and _I_ did that to her. She just laughs at my reaction. "It's fine," she assures me. "Anyway, I beat you, remember?"

"Are you sure you're okay?" I ask.

"I'm fine, really," she repeats. "I don't even need this ice pack, but Johanna insisted when she saw me in the cafeteria earlier." With that, she removes the pack and swings her legs over the edge of the bed, jumping down to land on the floor next to me. She tries to hide it, but I see her wince when she hits the ground. Neither of us are badly injured from the fights this week, but the combination of bruising and sore muscles makes for unpredictable pain when we move.

But I know that Katniss wouldn't want me to acknowledge that she's in pain, so as much as I want to reach my arm out to steady her, I resist the urge. She nods her head toward the door leading out of the room, and I follow her.

As we step into the corridor, I try to make light of the situation since she so clearly doesn't want me to be concerned for her. "You could've gone a little easier on me, you know." I tease. "I only have one win, and you're still undefeated!"

She looks at me and smiles in amusement. "No way. I've got to keep up my rank for the future."

I laugh in response, continuing to follow her blindly as we make our way through the maze-like corridors of Dauntless headquarters. After a few minutes, I catch on to where she's taking me: to one of the doors that lead outside the compound. We both stay quiet until we step out into the warm night air.

Technically, initiates aren't supposed to leave the compound unless we're in a group, going on an officially-sanctioned outing. But it's a not-so-well-kept secret that people do it anyway. You can go crazy cooped up underground for so long. It's mostly Dauntless-born kids who sneak out, though, since the transfers don't know the best ways to leave without getting caught.

But I've gotten to know some of the Dauntless-born initiates in the short time we've been here. I mean, I don't know any of them well, but just enough to tell that some of them seem remarkably normal. People I'd be friends with if we were in different circumstances. One of the Dauntless kids, Finnick, invited me out with his friends a few nights ago; the next day, I showed Katniss what I'd learned.

Tonight, Katniss and I head away from Dauntless headquarters, far enough that we can see the stars in the sky and the nearby city skyline, but not so far that we need to worry about running across any of the factionless. Katniss eases herself down onto the pavement and leans back on her hands. I join her.

We sit silently for several minutes, her staring up at the stars, me unable to resist the opportunity to stare at her. When I can't stand the silence anymore, I let out a short laugh. "I, uh, probably need to win my last fight, tomorrow, huh?"

Katniss nods absently, but then, as if realizing something important, she turns to me with a worried look on her face. "Listen, I'm sorry if I hurt your ranking, but I had to - "

"Katniss," I say, holding my hand up and interrupting her. "Don't. I'll be okay."

"I just don't want you to fail initiation," she responds guiltily.

Me neither. But I'm trying not to think about that right now; I don't know how I'll make it through if I let myself feel the fear. "Don't worry about me," I tell her. "Just take care of yourself."

She looks at me, furrowing her brow in thought before she speaks again. "I'm not worried for myself," she says, although a hint of uncertainty in her voice belies her confident words. "I know I can make it. But I want us _both_ to make it."

It's strange to hear Katniss like this. For the first time in all the years I've known her, I'm not sure she's telling the truth. Not about wanting us both to make it through initiation; I'm sure she's sincere about that. But I'm not sure about her confidence that she'll succeed. I suspect she's expressing confidence in herself because she thinks that's what a Dauntless _should_ say, but for once, I miss her old Candor side. The one where I could always be completely certain she'd tell me the truth, even if it was uncomfortable or hard to hear.

She crosses her legs and leans forward, dropping her chin into her hands. "You know what I'd really like right now?" she asks suddenly. "Some of your Amity bread."

"That's the last thing I thought you were going to say," I tell her, laughing in surprise. I angle my body slightly to face hers. Katniss nods slowly. "You've…eaten Amity bread before?" It may seem like a silly question, but I don't want to assume she's talking about the bread I gave her all those years ago. After all, she never mentioned it to me again after I forced her to take it.

She quickly confirms my suspicions. "When you gave it to me, remember? Right after, um…" she trails off and I try to fill the uncomfortable silence.

"I didn't know if you ever ate it. You didn't really seem to want it at the time," I tell her softly, inching closer to her side.

A tiny smile briefly passes over her face before it disappears. "I did. It was really good," she says sadly.

"I'm glad," I answer quietly as I reach my hand to tentatively place it on her back, rubbing small, reassuring circles. She doesn't shrink away from my touch, so I leave my hand where it is.

She closes her eyes, and for several minutes appears to be deep in thought. Finally, without re-opening her eyes, she starts speaking. "When Dad and Prim…died," her voice catches on these words, but she quickly gathers herself, "it was just me and Mom. But she just completely shut down after it happened."

"Shut down?"

Katniss shrugs helplessly. "Yeah. She just couldn't function. She wouldn't do anything. For months afterwards."

She turns to me, a pained look in her eyes, before quickly averting her gaze. "I was just angry after it happened. At everyone. Did you know the fire happened because of negligence of some of the older buildings?" I shake my head. "I just…felt betrayed by my own faction, I guess. I thought they were supposed to protect us, you know?"

I scoot even closer to Katniss, taking a chance and wrapping my arm fully around her shoulders. As bad as things were with my mom, I don't think I could ever comprehend the kind of pain she must've felt at losing almost her entire family. I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

She doesn't move away from my side as she continues her story. "I stopped eating, like not taking Candor food was a way of getting back at them or something," she says bitterly. Then she raises her eyes to mine. "So when you gave me that bread - even though I pretended I didn't want it - I _devoured_ it later. It was the best thing I've ever eaten."

The tension between us right now is palpable. "I, uh, thought Candors couldn't lie," I joke, trying to clear the air.

Katniss bites her lip and laughs softly in response. "You thought wrong," she tells me. "Anyway, I didn't eat all the bread right away. I just ate a little at a time, even though it got really stale. But it made me feel better after I ate it, so I tried to make it last."

What she's saying is literally exactly how I'd hoped she'd feel after I gave her the bread. But here I am, only finding out five years later that my plan had been successful after all.

Hesitantly, Katniss leans her head on my shoulder. I tense slightly, out of shock more than anything. But I don't want her to move an inch.

"I never thanked you for it," she says, so quietly I'd never have heard her if she wasn't so close.

"You didn't have to thank me," I breathe, almost overwhelmed by her physical presence and the comforting warmth of her body pressed into mine.

Casting her eyes down, she replies, "Well, I'm thanking you anyway."

In response, I tighten my arm around her, stopping just in time before I catch myself moving to press a kiss into her hair.

"There's something else," she continues, studiously avoiding my gaze. "I'm going to tell you this because I want to, but don't let things get weird between us, okay?"

"Um…okay?"

She buries her face in her hands and sighs, dropping them to her knees before she speaks. "I, um…you probably guessed this already because I've been hanging around you all these years, but I have….you could say…_feelings_ for you." She lifts her head and shakes it in frustration. "I don't know, I guess I like you, or whatever," she mutters.

I'm so stunned by her confession that I don't say anything for several seconds, my mouth opening and closing as I try to formulate a response. How did I completely miss this for so many years? I mean, I don't know what we could've done about it, but still…

At my lack of response, Katniss starts simultaneously pulling away from me and apologizing profusely. "Listen, I'm sorry, I don't want to make things weird, you're, like, my only friend here - "

My mind is still reeling from her confession, but I have enough of my wits about me to lean in and cut her off by pressing my lips firmly to hers. She jumps in surprise and places her hands on my shoulders. I worry she's about to push me away, but after a moment, I feel her relax.

And after another moment, she returns the kiss, pressing herself more closely into me, sliding her hands into my hair.

But I feel like I need to say something, so soon I pull away, smiling as I rest my hand on her cheek. "I don't want to make things weird either, so I won't even _tell_ you how long I've had feelings for you." Katniss gives me a surprised look, but I move my face back toward hers. "I've wanted to do this for so long," I whisper against her lips, just before my mouth captures hers in another gentle kiss.

As our mouths continue to move together slowly, I ignore the part of my mind that's reminding me what's waiting for me back at Dauntless. That we both have to make it through initiation for this to last.

Right now, I just want to stay in this moment forever.


End file.
